Arts & Sciences
Riddle XVII. A Ballista
Translated by R. K. Gordon, Anglo-Saxon Poetry (Everyman’s Library, 1926) · From Exeter Book Riddles (selection)
I am the guardian of my family, an enclosure firm with wires, filled within with noble treasures. Often by day I spit out terror of spears; the greater my fullness, the greater the success. The master beholds how the war-darts fly from my womb. Sometimes I swallow dark brown weapons, bitter points, deadly poisoned spears. My stomach is serviceable, the foison of my womb is fair, precious to proud men. Men forget not what passes through my mouth.
This translation is printed as prose in its source edition.
Codex Note
One of roughly ninety riddles preserved in the Exeter Book; this is one of a further selection translated by R. K. Gordon. The manuscript gives no solutions — the title here follows the translator's own guess (numbering follows Tupper's edition, converted to this archive's Wyatt-based numbering).
Cite this poem
MLA
Anonymous (Old English). “Riddle XVII. A Ballista.” Translated by R. K. Gordon, Anglo-Saxon Poetry. Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/anonymous-old-english/38/.
Chicago
Anonymous (Old English). “Riddle XVII. A Ballista.” Translated by R. K. Gordon, Anglo-Saxon Poetry. Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/anonymous-old-english/38/.
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